Nah, No More: the Aftermath of NaNoWriMo
Believe it or not, I hadn't heard about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month for those that similarly missed the memo) until 2023. A bit later than most, but I've never been particularly dialed in with online trends. I also wasn't really thinking about writing before then, at least not for many years. The spark of creativity remained barely lit and hidden away within me, somewhere so deep I didn't know of its existence.
But I've already told that story, it's time to talk about my experience with NaNo.
When I started writing again that year, two of my friends independently told me to try NaNo with them. They both said that they had tried it solo in the past but never gotten all the way through. I suggested we make a little accountability group chat so we can check in on each other and help us all stay motivated to do the dang thing, an easy yes to secure since these two also knew each other. They agreed, thinking it sounded like a fun and collaborative way to stay motivated.
Both of these friends had been writing much more recently than me, one of them currently drafting a novel (one that I truly hope sees the light of day as the excerpt I read blew me away). They were planning to use the month of glorified crunch to make some serious progress since they'd been letting the story sit on the back burner. The three of us added each other on the NaNo website so we could see each others' progress (a great motivator for me, someone who is highly competitive) and prepared in our own ways for the grueling month of writing ahead of us.
November 1st arrived and I hit the ground running. I set my daily writing goal of 1667 words and did my best to stick to it. The first week flew by, two of us hitting our goals each day while the third was already struggling to keep momentum after a few days. I did all I could to support them, but that friend would wind up officially tapping out shortly after. They were kind and continued to praise the two of us as we pushed past those first seven days, feeling barely worse for the wear but unable to deny the vibe shift that had already set in. We trudged along with one more cheerleader at our backs and one less soldier to our sides. The two of us still in the trenches felt the full weight of the 50,000 word workload squarely on our shoulders.
I admit that I used poor time management and unsustainable practices to maintain this pace, filling every spare moment of time typing until I hit my goal. I felt the drive to write the story I was working on. I was invested in the characters, in the conflict, in the unique point of view I had chosen to write from. I had no idea what my friend was working on (or maybe I did at the time but I've forgotten in the two years since), any piece of "extraneous" information leaving my brain to make room for plot progression and character development. Even if I didn't hit 1667 every day, there were days I hit 2k! I was always at or above the overall word count goal out of fear that one misstep would leave me buried alongside my friend.
By the end of week two, I was the only one still on track. My last remaining cohort still fighting alongside me had fallen a few steps behind, urging me to continue ahead without them. Telling me they needed a brief break and would catch up soon. I knew I couldn't stop for them, the knowledge killing me. It felt like leaving someone behind who stepped on a land mine. Someone who saw their mortality in front of their eyes and knew the best they could do was encourage the people that wanted to help to save themselves from the inevitability of the end.
The end of week three marked the end of anyone but me continuing to walk towards a goal that looked further and further away the closer it came. My steady progress began to falter, the first day passing where I fell under the word count I needed to consider myself on track. I pushed harder, relying less and less on my two cheerleaders as each message to them for encouragement or accountability just wound up making me feel bad. It felt like I was showing off, that I was bragging to two people I assumed had given it their all and fallen short. Their white flags and those of the countless other writers who had surrendered littered the landscape behind me.
As a US resident, the fourth week included Thanksgiving. This added a unique tribulation to the mix toward the very end of an already brutal trial. It was almost like a final boss to conquer before the home stretch. I was desperate to come out the other side a victor after the slog of hours spent toiling away behind a computer screen. I mustered the last bit of my strength and forced myself to get ahead on my word count, losing any semblance of free time I had managed to hold on to until the holiday week.
November 28th marked the end of my NaNoWriMo journey. After severe crunch and many sleepless nights, I hit my goal for the month. 50,000 words. The relief I felt was immeasurable, rivaled only by the tsunami of dopamine that rushed through my body from completing a task I'd deemed practically impossible mere days prior. The ecstasy was overwhelming. I wound up with more than 52k words by the end of the month, refusing to lose speed on my output.
The spoils of my victory took the shape of a certificate saying I had completed NaNoWriMo (granted, without the need for any sort of verification), a better discount on Scrivener (half off instead of 25% for participating), and two pieces of NaNo merch from some family members for Christmas later that year. One to commemorate attempting, one to signify completion.
I rode that high for weeks. In fact, I used that unregulated happiness to trick myself into continuing at that pace all the way into the New Year (a choice I would feel the ramifications of for infinitely longer than my two month and change stint of constant progress). To be frank, I'm still negatively impacted by this decision to this day years later.
But what can I say? I felt good. Unstoppable. Stephen King says he writes 400 words every single day. Sure, he might not be the world's best frame of reference with some of the weird sex stuff he puts into his books (especially when it involves minors), but the consistency of his output is undeniable. I may have toned down my word count goals after completing NaNo, but I was still forcing myself to write every single day with little to no exception.
Some time in January, I finally missed a day for one reason or another. Then another. Another. Pretty soon, I shelved the book I had sunk almost 100k into. I told myself any number of things to explain away the gnawing feeling in my gut that I had given up. I wanted to spend more time with a friend in town. I wanted to make time to start back up the pixel art lessons I put on hold during November. I decided I had earned a brief respite from practically daily progress as a reward for my hard work.
The truth of the matter is I was burnt the fuck out. That story continues to collect dust, the first on a shelf of unfinished projects that I'm sure will stack up over time.
I've managed to come back to my writing with a new perspective, even if it leaves me always doing a little less than I'd like to further along my current work in progress. To be fair to myself, I am juggling many more projects now. I'm making consistent progress, just not at an insane rate on any of them. I'm still so happy with how far I've come. How much healthier of a relationship I have with my creative projects now, even if I've left a lot to be desired in my production speed.
So what have I learned?
NaNoWriMo does not promote sustainable writing practices. Sure, that should've been obvious from the start, but hindsight is 20/20. That crunch mentality helped me make great strides on my story at the time, but it also led to discontent. To a slow but steady loss of passion for the project. Pride is fleeting, the sense of accomplishment willing to leave the moment you lose the ability to continue at an impossible rate.
In the aftermath of a NaNoWriMo success story, I've found a way to give myself more attainable challenges going forward. Things like monthly bingo cards with unique goals that I choose have given me a more finite, achievable workload that I space out at my discretion. They've been a lifesaver for staying motivated on multiple projects at once without getting overwhelmed or run down.
Burnout is no joke, y'all. Take some time to be kind to yourselves this year.
After all, there's not much time left to do so.